


Helping Each Other Out

by Ayngelcat



Category: District 9 (2009), Transformers Generation One
Genre: Crossover, Gen, swindle being swindle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-03
Updated: 2013-02-03
Packaged: 2017-11-28 01:17:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/668600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ayngelcat/pseuds/Ayngelcat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After their awakening on Earth, the presence of the Poleepkwan ship above Johannesburg comes to the attention of Onslaught and his team. Swindle is sent in with orders to 'negotiate' a mutually beneficial deal - earlier attempts by both the Autobots and Decepticons having failed in this regard. Things are not quite as Swindle imagined, however.</p><p>No warnings really - other than vague mention of Vortex' possible 'inclinations' towards unsuspecting aliens!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Helping Each Other Out

Onslaught stole a glance at the gigantic solitary ship, floating lazily in the haze of the Earth city.

“All right,” he said, “Swindle’s going in. Vortex? I want you on aerial surveillance, blending with those Earth helicopters between the city and the ship. Brawl? Perimeter patrol of District Nine. You are to report anything untoward immediately.”

He turned to the shuttle. “As for you, Blast Off, you know the drill. Be on standby for immediate evacuation should the need arise.”

There were surprised noises. Then muffled chuckles. All except from Swindle, who looked nervous. Vortex, clapped him reassuringly on the back. “Don’t worry Swin, don’t think you’ll be needing the heavy artillery,” he chortled. “Squishies call them ‘prawns’. Hahaha! You know what one of them is? A creature that crawls on seabeds.”

Brawl laughed out loud and even Blast Off stifled a smirk.

Onslaught darkened. “I want this taken seriously!” He thundered. “I cannot believe that you are quite so ignorant of intragalactic affairs to not know what the Poleepkwan can do!”

Looking towards the city, he gave the ship a long, hard stare. “All right, I know they’ve lost their leaders and seem to have ended up in something of a – predicament – here. But they’re sneaky; pragmatic! There’s no telling what the real agenda is.”

“Besides which …” a determined smile crept on to his face. “I want those weapons. I _know_ they’ll have them somewhere. And if they’re not using them at the moment, then _we_ can make _very_ good use of them …” he nodded to himself, “very good use indeed. We can succeed where both Prime and Megatron have failed.”

“So get to it!” he snapped, realizing that they stood gaping at him with their mouths open. “And Vortex? No funny business. Poleepkwan are violent fraggers. And they don’t take kindly to unwelcome alien attentions.”

“Excellent!” chuckled the copter as they all made for the door.

………………….

Swindle hovered uncomfortably in the darkened hut, stooping slightly so his helm did not brush the ceiling. Rain pattered on the roof as alien scents – human, Poleepkwan, and the rancid reek of poverty and desperation - a signature recognizable  anywhere in the galaxy and one which Swindle generally avoided with a passion - crept in from outside.

The Combaticon shuddered inwardly, recalling the less than pleasant trip here, his tyres squidging in mud and crunching over organic waste, spattering his underside with Primus knew what as his windscreen wipers and headlights struggled to cope. More than once, squabbling Poleepkwans had fallen across his bonnet, leaving scratches and dints. Miserable looking squishies armed with puny weapons had fired half-sparked shots …

Everywhere, inescapable decay and hopelessness.  

 _Thanks Ons - the hell with this for a good time. How could it have happened?_ Swindle still could not understand. It was worse out there than Kaon at its worst in the depression before the war. And this was a proud, conquering race?

But he was not here to make a sociological evaluation. This was business.

Besides, it was clean and tidy inside this hut, and astoundingly well organized, like an islet in the chaos; an ample demonstration that Onslaught, perhaps, was right.

Swindle glanced around. A plethora of information technology and mechanical paraphernalia donned both walls and floor, whilst in the centre, a complex laboratory had been set up, a masterpiece of science and engineering. It was personified entirely by the lean, skeletal alien who bent over the flasks, pausing every now and then to make notes.

Swindle cleared his throat. “So – uh – you’re the one they call Christopher?” He wondered again why the creature had a squishy name. “Nice place you got here!”

The Poleepkwan let out another of those sounds that was between a savage sounding hiss and a click. “What of it?” He didn't look up. It was hardly encouraging.

“I heard you were kinda like the big guy round here. You know – _the boss?_ ” That should go down well. Leaders always liked recognition. Onslaught lapped it up.

But Christopher only paused to glare at him. “I am a spokesman for my people, if that is what you mean,” he said in his throaty, alien voice. “Now, your business?” He returned to his calibrations.

Beside him, the smaller version – a Poleepkwan creation of sorts and evidently Christopher’s – stared accusingly. Swindle decided this wasn’t going to be a transaction memorable for its charming and engaging conversation. He came straight to the point. “I – uh – I understand you’re something of a weapons guru!” he tried to inject a joviality he really didn’t feel.

The response was not jovial. The creatures stiffened. Then two sets of those piercing blue eyes – unnerving in their depth and complexity – were upon Swindle again. Mandibles clicked and tendrils ruffled. “My people possess some of the most advanced weapons in the galaxy, yes,” Christopher said. “Now please - make your point. Or leave.”

It was time to go for broke. Swindle swallowed hard. Then, he assumed his most charming, most eloquent salesman smile.

“Well now – that’s where you an’ I could do each other a favour, see?” he sparkled, feeling more his usual self. Picking up a small spanner from the carefully laid out tools, he patted it against the palm of his hand. “Y’see, aside from this – uh – delightful little well equipped home you have here, there’s a whole world out there, pal. An’ I happen to know a lotta squish … I mean humans .”

Christopher was unmoved. “I’m acquainted with quite a few myself, yes,” he clicked. “The point being?”

The rain had eased. From outside came growls and hissing, accompanied by thuds and cracks  as creatures squabbled in the thick mud. No doubt another fight over that catfood stuff. Swindle thought of the bedraggled looking squishies he had seen running for cover. “Yeah – but I’m talkin’ about _big_ guns,” he winked at the sparkling, who blinked back. “Movers and shakers. They got money – a lot of it. BIG money.”

“I see …” Christopher’s alien crustacean face crumpled into a frown. His antennae twitched. _Primus you’d hardly win a beauty contest, on any galactic stage,_  Swindle thought. Although he’d seen worse.

“Yeah – money you could use to – you know – improve the lot of your people,” he said cheerfully. “Expand! Make this township – uh – even better than it already is.”

Christopher gave him a ‘look.’ “And in return – you want Poleepkwan weapons?”

“You got it!” Maybe this would be a success after all. Onslaught would be pleased.

The little one looked up at his creator. Something which could have been a thin smile crossed the adult Poleepkwan’s face. “Worth considering, under other circumstances,” Christopher said. “Unfortunately, at the present time – impossible.”

…………

Swindle still couldn’t believe it. “So your tryina tell me that _nobody_ can use these weapons?” he cried.

“That is correct, “Christopher had washed his claws and was drying them on a small cloth which the little one had fetched. “The military aboard our transport were all destroyed in the uprising. None here have the genetic coding capabilities necessary for successful operation, and it is quite impossible for alien races – especially Cybernetic ones – to achieve the same.”

“But that’s outrageous!” Swindle threw his hands in the air, knocking against the ceiling, from which came a shower of fine dust. “I mean its – a tragedy!”

And the creatures’ plight was only the half of it. Far more of a tragedy it would be when Onslaught got this news.

It had gone quiet outside. Through the steady drip of the rain’s aftermath, Swindle could hear distantly the _thwop-thwop_ of rotors. He felt a faint sense of relief, and hoped Vortex was having fun. He was already dreading going home.

But he was buoyed by the proximity of the copter. Maybe this wasn’t the whole story? _Violent fraggers_ , Onslaught had said. _Sneaky, pragmatic._ Perhaps it was time for a little _Combaticon persuasion_ – to bring out those qualities in Christopher.

“So – why did ya give guns to the squishes, then?” Swindle assumed a stance which made him look just a little more threatening. He activated the canon on his arm to low. It throbbed with a faint hum. The little one stared at it. _Good._

But Christopher only looked at the weapon as though it were of no consequence, and as if eons of having to deal with such artefacts had left him with a faintly irritated indifference. He looked at Swindle again.

“I gave our weapons to the _squishies_ as you call them, _because_ the weapons are currently of no use to us. They make these particular _squishies_ feel powerful and important. This will be useful when the time comes.”

Christopher had moved closer. Now, he stood in a firm stance, claw fists planted firmly on his hips. Swindle looked at the intense optics, the determined expression, the lean, hard exoskeleton. In a short time only, he had seen the strength that belied the fragile looking bodies, even weaponless. Poleepkwan didn’t hesitate, and they tossed squishies – and each other – as though they had no substance.

And Swindle sensed more, now. The surroundings seemed to close in; through the silence, he sensed the million or so others of Christopher’s kind. It was as though the residents of District Nine were as one, their focus right here, in this hut. United, the Poleepkwan machine simmered in readiness.  Like new formed lava beneath an ancient volcano, it awaited some weakness to gush forth in a deluge of wanton destruction.

Vortex _would_ be impressed. Onslaught was definitely right. “When the time comes?” Swindle asked, hopeful now.

The little Poleepkwan looked anxiously at Christopher, who patted his head affectionately.

“Let us just say that the industry you see in this hut is not in vain, I am working on a means to make our weapons operable,” he said. “A squishy or squishies may have a key role. You can tell your boss – Onslaught I believe his name is – that I will consider providing assistance, but I will not do deals. Cybertronians have much experience in war. I will expect only the assistance my people are owed.”

The energon drained from Swindle’s head conduits. He nearly toppled over. “You _know_ Onslaught?” he asked incredulously.

“Not personally," Christopher said pleasantly, “but he is known among my people back home – and is certainly a better prospect than others from your race who currently reside on this world and who attempted previously to exploit the Poleepkwan. By that I mean the big red and blue one, and the silver idiot.”

Swindle found himself with a great need to sit down. As if by magic, the little one appeared, dragging a massive chair.

“Sit!” Christopher said. “And I shall tell you the message I want taken to your leader. And Onslaught _is_ a leader. This I am only too happy to acknowledge.”


End file.
